


The Shallows

by CharlieHarris



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, M/M, Melancholy, Short, madi mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieHarris/pseuds/CharlieHarris
Summary: John contemplates his options - end of season 4. Really short and bit angsty.Silver stands at the water’s edge as he watches Flint walk away along the beach. They have spoken again of the cause and of the cost. Silver has demanded assurances, for he needs to know that Flint intends to at least fucking try to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**The Shallows**

Silver stands at the water’s edge as he watches Flint walk away along the beach. They have spoken again of the cause and of the cost. Silver has demanded assurances, for he needs to know that Flint intends to at least fucking try to survive. If he cannot be convinced how can he continue, how can he take a single step further down this path? Flint made him in his own image and Silver is thankful, for where else could he matter, yet he is angry for the losses he has suffered. He has done everything for this one man, lost a leg for his noble cause and his fucking war, and still he refuses to kiss him. It is hard to accept but Silver suspects that the connection between them is not enough to unmake Flint, perhaps only Thomas will do. It is a fucking bitter pill to swallow.

Flint has left a ghostly path of footprints in his wake. Silver moves to fit his foot and peg carefully into the closest impressions. His foot looks tiny, dwarfed in comparison, it makes him think of a father and child. Is that what Flint thinks of him? It doesn’t feel like that now that he desires the man, but perhaps once, almost, it’s true that he has listened, watched, and learned like a son. Silver feels a petulant urge to wiggle his toes, to disrupt the sand and disintegrate all evidence of Flint’s presence but the sea beats him to it, as the salt water seeps in and his peg sinks into the shifting sand. Nothing leaves a permanent mark, John knows this well enough. Time will erase the whole fucking lot of them and all of their damn stories.

Flint doesn’t understand and at this juncture Silver knows this is the disconnect between them. He feels his faith slipping away from him and when the tide comes rolling in Silver will shift like the sand. Flint will hold his ground and be pulled under unless Silver reaches out and holds on to him, and if Flint doesn’t cut off his fucking arm to sacrifice himself, the tide will probably take them both. 

And he is oh so very pissed that it has come to this, before getting a single taste of what he desired, that Flint was forcing his hand whilst being so close to his reach. Not even a real kiss. The idea of letting Flint go without knowing, well it was just unacceptable, it would not stand. 

Words were his last hope so he would make one last attempt to reason with the man, and if that failed then he would concede defeat and step aside for Thomas. Madi he thought would forgive him, if it came to it. He would make her understand why he might chose love over war, his silver tongue had never failed him, he might weave a story or perhaps, for once, tell the truth that this war started with love and it was only fitting that love might be its end.

One way or another, and whether Flint wanted it or not, Silver would save him. The tide was coming in fast now and the effort of keeping his balance was making his leg ache. Silver pivoted on his crutch and splashed back up to beach.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver wants Flint to say 'fuck the war' but he doesn't...well not yet. Only short and a bit angsty bit don't worry we're going somewhere saucy just taking my time!

John woke the next day, broke fast and then hustled his way up the sand dunes just as awkwardly as ever. He was hot and breathless as he greeted Flint and pleaded for a moment to catch his breath before the man could demonstrate the seemingly endless ways in which he could kill him in a sword fight. Just another day, a perfect copy of the previous day, these days of fighting with Flint were merging in his memory into one long montage of humiliation, sweat and sunburn. 

For James this was not 'just another day'. It was a singular day, a day loaded with meaning and significance and triggered memories that caused too much pain to bare contemplation. Today is, for he could not stand to think in past tense, Thomas' birthday.

They break from training, Silver suspects it is due to pity on Flint's part, a chance to let him steady his breathing and sit for a moment and rest his aching limbs. He slumps gracelessly to the ground and rubs the muscles around his shoulder. Flint he knows could continue for eternity. Silver loves to watch him fight, the movements are so fluid it is almost hypnotic, he catches himself sometimes imagining that they are dancing not fighting, which might seem apt and poignant if he let himself dwell upon the thought. He does not. 

Flint catches John watching his eyes and not his wrist. Today of all days he has had enough of dancing around, of pretending. Thomas would be furious with him, he would remind him to know no shame and to grasp for happiness with both hands. He wants, and want is such a meagre word for what he feels, he aches to reach for John, to press him close.  He seeks permission, a sign of sorts to allow himself to make such a bold move. 

Flint is speaking, but John has missed most of it, he catches enough to work out that he is asking again for his story. John has already told him everything, there is no storyteller, but Flint has not listened closely enough and he is fucked if he will spell it out. He would take whatever Flint is prepared to give him, he would be thankful from the depths of his soul, anything would be enough for him. But it is not the same for Flint, the man is greedy for more, wants to own him and therein lies the rub, the cut, the blow that John could never recover from.

John could spill whatever fragments of his story he can still recall or he could tell the lie that Flint would recognise. He knows, oh yes he knows, and yet he does it anyway just to make sure, but there is no kindness here and predictably Flint turns away. John could reach out and offer himself, it is all he has left, but self preservation stills him. 

Did Flint demand this much of Thomas? Silver doubts that very much. He thinks Thomas was truly loved. Silver is desired, that much he knows. For he is an observant man and it is impossible to misinterpret the way Flint looks at him. And he was needed, desperately, passionately yes. But was he truly loved by Flint? Almost, almost.

John wants to shout, 'I'm here, I'm real.' He wants Flint to say 'fuck the war, fuck Thomas Hamilton, I want you, you are all I need.'

It does not happen, Silver is almost disappointed but still he reminds himself that he is not a foolish boy that believes in such dreams. He is a man hardened by events he has little control over and this must be borne, like everything else, with as little complaint or expectation as possible. 

You have my true friendship. It's not quite the truth but close enough. Flint should understand but he chooses not to. So the day passes into the next like any other.


End file.
